I was in discussion with a friend the other night about the worst national anthem. In my view, there's no contest as I think they all stink, I have little time for any kind of nationalist sentiment that asserts the superiority of one land above all others, or invokes the name of him upstairs in blessing it with sunshine and water. Some are undoubtedly musically stirring, such as France's, but even that is based around blood and battlefields, etc.

My friend's view was that Hungary's anthem was indeed the worst. Melodically, it's a minor key drear, and lyrically it's all about the fates of the past that will continue on the heads of future generations because of the sins of the present. I print them below, and indeed that is the case: not exactly optimistic. Have a read, and then check the audio link, but I don't especially advise you to. I'd like to encourage responses, but after reading the words you might not feel like doing too much. I'd suggest you become an internationalist, or a citizen of Freedonia.

"From the rough centuries of the Hungarian people" (National Anthem of Hungary)

O Lord, bless the nation of HungaryWith your grace and bountyExtend over it your guarding armDuring strife with its enemiesLong torn by ill fateBring upon it a time of reliefThis nation has suffered for all sinsOf the past and of the future!

You brought our ancestors upOver the Carpathians' holy peaksBy You was won a beautiful homelandFor Bendeguz's sonsAnd wherever flow the rivers ofThe Tisza and the DanubeÁrpád our hero's descendantsWill root and bloom

For us on the plains of the KunsYou ripened the wheatIn the grape fields of TokajYou dripped sweet nectarOur flag you often plantedOn the wild Turk's earthworksAnd under Mátyás' grave army whimperedVienna's "proud fort."

Ah, but for our sinsAnger gathered in Your bosomAnd You struck with Your lightningFrom Your thundering cloudsNow the plundering Mongols' arrowsYou swarmed over usThen the Turks' slave yokeWe took upon our shoulders.

How often came from the mouthsOf Osman's barbarian nationOver the corpses of our defeated armyA victory song!How often did your own son agressMy homeland, upon your breast,And you became because of your own sonsYour own sons' funeral urn!

The fugitive hid, and towards himThe sword reached into his caveLooking everywhere he could not findHis home in his homelandClimbs the mountain, descends the valleySadness and despair his companionsSea of blood beneath his feetOcean of flame above.

Castle stood, now a heap of stonesHappiness and joy fluttered,Groans of death, weepingNow sound in their place.And Ah! Freedom does not bloomFrom the blood of the dead,Torturous slavery's tears fallFrom the burning eyes of the orphans!

Pity, O Lord, the HungariansWho are tossed by waves of dangerExtend over it your guarding armOn the sea of its miseryLong torn by ill fateBring upon it a time of reliefThey who have suffered for all sinsOf the past and of the future!

Well Norman, there are a few verses to cheer even the hardest of souls! I suspect the composer had downed a couple of bottles of Zwacks' finest and was sobbing into their Gulyasleves as they wrote. There is a country (South American?) that has an anthem that doesn't have words. This saves those embarrassing scenes at the beginning of international football matches and other such events, were the participants struggle to look as if they are singing along.Aly